CHAPTER EIGHT
"I stared at a land of confusion and unconsciously sealed my fate in an ebony and crimson envelope."
A week had passed; seven days had come and gone, and yet for Harleen it all appeared a blur of news, words, and darkness.
The Riddler now had news attention. He was now becoming a household name.
She'd not returned to Arkham since Taylor's attack—which unsurprisingly remained unsolved. No one had witnessed anything and the girl's assigned drivers had gone missing. Harleen's testimony to the police fell in with all the other short leads of the Riddler case. Oddly, Taylor was the kind hope Harleen had been waiting for. Someone had seen the man's face, but the poor girl had paid dearly for it and by no means had asked for involvement.
Taylor was unable to communicate in anyway; her body had gone into hibernation, a psychologically induced coma caused by the massive amount of trauma and stress she had endured. Harleen couldn't blame her, but at least she was still alive and she would wake-up eventually.
Yet, it was all her fault…
Harleen shifted in her bed to stare hollowly into the sun-brightened curtains. She couldn't waste away like this in her apartment, wallowing in self-pity. Taylor wouldn't blame her for the ordeal, she told herself, and neither should she, but she couldn't stop holding herself accountable. If she had just let things play out instead of mocking the Riddler, if she hadn't partaken in tracking him as actively as she had then…
'Then what? He would still hunt to hurt you. You can map his mind. Where is haughty Harleen? Where is that determined woman deemed Harley Quinn by her enemies? Where is she?'
She was asleep, hiding somewhere because she'd been burned. She curled up and shook her head. He was winning, the Riddler was winning and she was letting him. She was justified, though right? She didn't want any more people to be hurt because of her. Why couldn't he have targeted her from the beginning? Yet, she knew the answer, even as she desperately asked. She would have fought back like an angry cat. To get to someone you work from the outside in; harm the ones they cared about. What if he attempted to hurt Pam next? She didn't want to risk it. The more and more she allowed the fear to eat at her the more she wanted to quit. She sat up and her hand reached out to grab her cell phone. She would call the Commissioner right away and-
She jumped as the phone began to buzz on her nightstand.
Shakily she picked it up.
"Hello?" Her heart was beating in her throat as she spoke, but instant relief washed over her as she realized it was just Pam from the caller ID. How ironic, she mused; she'd just been thinking about her.
"Harley, are you still in that bed?"
"Yeah, I am," she answered ashamedly.
She heard Pam snort indignantly. "Well you better get up; I'm coming up the elevator now. You and I are having a talk."
Harley sighed; she didn't feel up to this. She knew Pam was coming to talk some sense into her, and a part of her knew it was time, but still, what could anyone possibly say that would pull her from her stupor? She slid out of her bed and plodded from her room, across the living room, and into the kitchen.
She had just finished putting on a kettle of tea when a knock came at her door. She ran a hand through her disarrayed locks as made her way slowly to open it.
"I thought so. You look terrible, Harley."
Harleen gave a soft glare at the chide, but Pam just stood there expectantly. Harley sighed and cleared the doorway for her. The red-head entered into the apartment and dropped her purse on the counter. She didn't take an immediate seat, but instead turned to the blonde.
"You're worrying me. You haven't taken a step out of here since the girl's attack have you?" Harley couldn't lie. She leaned against the wall, and averted her gaze while shaking her head. Pam sighed, "This isn't healthy, Harley. It wasn't you fault that happened to her. That bastard is the one who chose her, not you. He could have gone after anyone else close to you."
"And the result would have been the same." Harleen vowed. "He would have succeeded no matter who his target ended up being."
Pam shook her head, "C'mon, who am I talking to? You're letting him win?"
Harley glared up at her, "What would you do in my situation?"
"Pout until you came and knocked some sense into me," Pam smirked. "You would have given me the same talk, so there; I admit we're both hypocrites. Harley, you can't let him win. He wants you to be like this. He wants you to quit, but do you honestly think if you just drop out of the race he's going to leave you alone?"
"What choice do I have? I don't want anyone else to be harmed."
"No, you don't want to feel guilty for anyone else close to you getting hurt. It sounds bad but, you have to endure it to beat this guy. You knew that he was crazy; you knew that you were going to push him and that he was going to retaliate."
"I didn't think he would hurt anyone else but me, at least not so quickly."
Pam walked over to the shorter woman and wrapped her arm around her shoulder. "C'mon," she guided her to the couch and they sat down. "But he did, and who else can adapt to the new game so quickly, but you? Harley, you're a go with the flow girl. You're as close to chaotic and random as one can get without being illegal. You can handle this. You know you're not at fault for Taylor's attack, and though you feel responsible, it's normal. You know you can't hide away in this apartment all your life. You have to go back to work, you have to continue you live, and you cannot let the Riddler take away your drive. You were always wonderful at improvising, and now the curtains being pulled up for you. You can't crack now."
"And if he hurts anyone else close to me? What if you're next, Pam?"
"Ah, now you don't worry about me. One, I'm not your average, simple girl. He'll get a chase trying to get me. But, Harley, if I was hurt by some average guy, what would you do?"
"Beat them to within a pulp of their life..."
"There's the Harleen Quinzel I know. You have this guy; you have him right where you want him. He only thinks that you're faltering. If I end up getting hurt, I expect to be avenged, damnit. Your friends are your friends, and if they don't like the danger they can high-tail it and leave. I'm staying here, I'll fight with you. No one hurts my best friend and gets away with it."
"He might kill you." Harley said, but Pam didn't answer. She only nodded, but when Harleen's head rose up to stare into her eyes she knew she didn't have to answer. "He better not lay even a finger on you."
"Oh, and why not?" Pam cocked her head to the side. "Is that venom I hear in your voice?" She teased.
"I'll chop his hand off or something. If he kills you, I swear—like you said, no one hurts my best friend and gets away with it." Pam grinned as Harleen attempted to calm down.
"Bingo, see. Now what are you going to do?"
Harley scrunched up her nose. "I need to wash my hair." Pam laughed and soon Harley joined in. "You go and get washed up, then you pick out something pretty, I'll do your make-up. You and I are hitting the town and I've got some connections with GCN. I think you need to publicly advertise how absolutely terrified you are." Harleen grinned at her sarcasm and stood up.
"Thanks Pam, in a way that was too easy for you to do, bring me back, ya know?"
Pam shrugged, "I'm lucky getting you back was easy. Harley you can be one vengeful bitch; I know that you would have recovered on your own, but we need you back on your game. The Riddler is going to strike again, and this city needs you, the average Jane, figuring him out, while Batman hunts him down. Besides, you can't quit the Joker case, I know you wouldn't want to."
The tea kettle began whistling and Harley rushed to the stove to remove it. "You're right, he's one interesting person."
Pam cocked an eyebrow at her, "You don't talk about him a lot, but I know that means you're probably enthralled. How interesting is he?"
"What you saw of his and my interaction is just a taste. He hits on me whenever he sees me. Pam, the guy's even kissed me!" Her cheeks went pink, but her face twisted. Pam watched her coolly. "He's dangerous." Harley shook her head, "I'm not fooled, alright, Red? I watch my back, or at least I know have to. He's not done anything worse since that little slip up in judgment. I should have kept a better eye on him." And technically it wasn't a lie.
When he had kissed her; that session had been the one where he had treaded the most dangerous boundaries. She wouldn't tell Pam about her slight crush; it was just for a bad boy. He wanted to seem charming and then when she gave in he would strike and maybe slash her open. She shuddered, but hid it. Pam didn't need to know anything, especially when it was just the call of an affection deprived mind like Harley's, who hadn't given any long attention to the opposite sex in years, but that was the sacrifice she'd made to get where she was.
"Ok, I'm going to take that shower now, Pam. You help yourself to some tea and we'll get cracking. What should I wear?"
Pam knew she was changing the subject on purpose, but she allowed it. Eventually she would know what was troubling the girl about the Joker. "Something that you can alter to go to a bar with after we visit the Gotham News headquarters," she replied and began to stand up. "So you have a plan of what to say to this guy?"
Harley walked from behind the counter and began to enter her bathroom. "Pam, do I look like a girl with a plan to you?" She snorted, happy to be back. The fire was in her veins again and she felt alive again.
The Riddler was in for a big surprise.
His hand froze in its path through Elisa's chocolate locks. His once lax body stiffened as his eyes locked on the figure on the television, interrupting the evening news. He tried to stay calm, but he felt his heart thud louder with each moment it took for the camera to zoom in on her.
Harleen Quinzel.
"Ed," Elisa asked concerned, sensing his rigid body beneath hers as she cuddled with him on the bed, watching the news.
"Hush," his voice was harsh and filled with light fury. It confused her, but she went silent her eyes becoming trained on the television as well. Wasn't this the psychiatrist working with the Gotham Police?
"This is Mike Engel with a surprise guest, Dr. Harleen Quinzel of the Riddler case. Dr. Quinzel, what brings you here?"
"Well, Mike, I know you covered the gruesome disfigurement of an area high school senior by this guy. As everyone at home is aware it was a message aimed as a warning to me. I've decided to step forward and reply to the message."
"Dr. Quinzel, you think the Riddler is watching this news station?"
Harley shrugged, "Yes, I have no doubt. He wants to see how the public is reacting to his little crime spree. He hasn't done anything else, but the public's attention is caught. He must be insanely thrilled."
Edward tightened his grip around Elisa's waist. The little bitch, she was treading on thin ice. She didn't appear scared at all. He gritted his teeth as he watched her boldly stare into the camera; stare right at him with a haughty smirk.
"I'm so scared, Riddler. You hurt a little girl, which so shows your capabilities. You target anymore of my friends, you bastard and I'll personally show you just how vengeful I can be, and yes, and that was a threat. You're wearing on my nerves, and I'll find out who you are once that little girl you hurt wakes up—and she's guarded well so don't even try it. Turn yourself in; end this game before someone really gets hurt. I'm not the only one hunting you. I think you know who else is on your trail."
"You are threatening a criminal? You honestly think this is wise, Dr. Quinzel?"
Harley turned and gave a humble smile to Mike Engel. "For me, probably not, but I'm not going to be shaken by a man who has the temper of a spoiled three year-old. I'm going to stay strong and I will defeat him. Bring it, Riddler, because I'm not scared of you yet. I don't think learned my lesson."
"And if the Riddler takes your ad-"
Edward shut the television off via remote and growled, roughly pushing Elisa off him.
"That little bitch!" He screeched and then he turned his gaze to the woman in his bed. She was frozen just staring at him. He had been nice to her, charming, and now she was seeing him irate and furious for seemingly no reason.
He had just gone off; slipped up in front of her. Did she know?
"Edward, um, are you alright?"
Edward sneered, "What do you think? Do I look alright to you?! Do I?!" The woman shook her head. "Then shut up if you already know the answer. Don't ask stupid questions. I don't like that." She curled into herself slightly and he saw her tremble. He glanced at the blank television and then at Elisa, with an impish smile.
"You know don't you now?" Her eyes stared up at him wide. "Do you know who I am? Say it!" She jumped at his sudden outburst. He pounced and towered over her prone body, arms on either side of her head. "You're silence," he twittered, "is rather grating, pet."
"Oh please no," she whimpered and shut her eyes tight. "This is a joke right, Edward? You're not the Riddler." He laughed, "Oh, yes, I just so happen to be. Is that problem for you? You didn't seem to care when you just jumped into my arms, let me touch you. How's it feel to know you give it all up to a criminal? Hmmm? Are you regretting our lustful romps in the sack, sweetie?"
She shook her head, "No, this isn't happening."
"Yes, it is." Edward grinned, getting closer to her face. She repeated the mantra and he interrupted again. It continued and with every giddy, "yes," he gave he got closer and closer to her until his mouth was hovering right by her ear. Tears were flowing down her face and she was shivering. "I'm the Riddler. You love the Riddler, poor, naïve little Elisa. What have you gotten yourself into?"
"No, no, no, NO!" Her eyes flew open and she kneed the man above her in the gut. She jumped out the bed and ran towards the door, not daring to look back as she heard Edward growl. She heard his footsteps as she grabbed the doorframe.
She screamed when his arms wrapped around her waist and she saw her world spin.
Then she collided with the wall, hitting her head hard. She moaned and crumpled the floor, vision going white. Was she bleeding? What had she done? He had just thrown her into a wall…Oh God…
Her world was a daze. She saw his feet and turned her face up to stare into coldest glare she had ever seen. No longer was there gentleness there, just a smug little smirk. Hatred, black, and consuming stared down at her.
"Where did you think you were going?"
She moaned at his hiss and watched black skittle on the outline of her vision. She felt sick, her head hurt. "Were you trying to escape, hmmm? Now, I might have let you leave if—no, what am I saying? You found out about my secret. I can't let you leave." He picked her up from the floor and cradled her in his arms. "You're going to amazing, Elisa…I'm going make to into a beautiful, cunning, little enigma. You might not think you'll join me today, but you will." He walked from the room with Elisa in his arms, too dazed to fight.
"Why don't you sit in here a while and think about the mistake you almost made?" He opened a door and Elisa saw blackness. She clutched onto Edward's shirt, but he chuckled darkly. "Now you regret your decision? Sorry, poppet, but you have to be punished for trying to escape. If you behave I'll only leave you in here a day…be naughty and I'll up it."
He threw her carelessly into the room, causing her to let go and shut the door loudly. She heard the lock click into place and she screamed, recovering just slightly. Tears began to pour down her face. What had just happened?
With every moment her head stopped hurting and everything became clearer, she had to bit her lip to quiet the rising sobs.
Oh God…Oh God…She shut her eyes, haunted by nothing but darkness and a chilling laugh. Edward was the Riddler, Edward was the Riddler…
Hazy, scented smoke flooded Harleen's nose as she stared down into the amber liquid of her glass. She swished the container, its contents glittering in the low lights before downing it in one gulp and turned to regard Pam with an amused smile.
One of the bartenders had taken to flirting with the woman, who was having no problem matching quips with him. Harley rolled her eyes; Pam saw it as a little fun. She was always a charmer and if she got free drinks, all the better. Harley just shook her head at the red-head when she turned and gave Harley a wink.
"Disgusting, huh?"
Harley looked at the other bartender who had been watching the two as well. Harley chuckled.
"I think it's funny actually."
The young man took her glass and refilled it. "On the house," he winked and she felt a light blush on her cheeks. "Thanks."
"No problem, it's not often we get a chick in here who can drink the whiskey straight up." Harley downed the shot and grinned, "Well, I'm not your average girl."
"What brings you in here, then?" Harley got another shot. "Celebration, I have weekend ahead of me, and I intend to enjoy it before going back to work."
"Don't like your job?" Harley shrugged, "It's alright, interesting, at least. I'm just happy is all. Today I got over a giant fear."
"Really?" Harley nodded and downed the shot. "Yeah, I'm no longer afraid of tomorrow or the future." The bartender grinned. "Hear, hear to no fear. Not even of that Riddler, guy?"
"No," Harley laughed, "not even of him." The bartender gave another laugh and excused himself to serve a man who had come up to the bar.
Pam sat down beside her, "Having fun too?" She whispered and glanced at the bartender Harley had been talking to. "He's cute."
"Yeah, but he's not my type…You know, I like the scruffy kinda guys. Clean unclean…"
"Dirty hot." Harley laughed at Pam's accusation, but nodded, "Exactly." The woman snickered, "They better watch out for you. You'll turn into a bad woman, yet, watch out."
Harley ordered another drink and glanced at Pam with a smile before repeating a snippet of poetry she had learned in school.
"But I say it's fine. Honest, I do.
And I'd like to be a bad woman, too,
And wear the brave stockings of night-black lace
And strut down the streets with paint on my face."
A/N: The snippet of poerty is an excerpt of "a song in the front yard" by Gwendolyn Brooks. I don't own it.